


George Voreson

by orphan_account



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Gen, One Shot, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 22:58:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: As the sixties near its conclusion, so does Paul and George's friendship.If only George could make Paul understand how he feels on the inside....





	George Voreson

**Author's Note:**

> I will most likely write something soon that isn't just a kinky one shot, I just wanted to finish this ficlet I stared a bit ago. It's vore, so there's that.

“Let's run through it one more time, alright?”

“Mhmm.” he mindlessly replied.

George internally grumbled. How many takes did Paul actually need? He had been playing on this one song for the better part of the day, Paul not letting up at all. It just had to be perfect, and they spent the week just on it alone. The frustration was plain on his face, yet Paul didn’t seem to care at all.

Or even notice, for that matter.

Ringo was there as well, but if he was upset, he didn't show it, just silently sitting behind his drum set, relegated to a passive robot in the machine that the Beatles had become.

George however, was pissed. And rightfully so. He had been obedient and did everything Paul asked, yet he never gave the time of day to help with George's songs.

John had left, off to do whatever with Yoko, leaving all of George’s frustrations to be targeted at Paul.

“Oh wait, never mind. It's lunchtime now.” Paul said, putting down his bass.

Ringo rose and left the room to get something to eat. George stood to follow when--

“Hey Geo, can I talk to you about the music?”

He cursed under his breath. He knew Paul wouldn't pull him aside to say anything particularly nice.

“Can you drop with the call and response bit with your guitar? I feel like it clutters up the song, y’know? I think it needs to be simpler.”

“Okay then.” he says brusquely, moving to exit the room. Paul loudly sighs.

“Can you wait? I feel like we just can't communicate anymore. Every time I talk to you nowadays, you always brush me off. Why can't you tell me what's wrong?”

“You said it yourself. You always talk, and I always listen. But whenever I want something, suddenly you're too busy. We have to work on your songs and my ideas aren't good enough.”

“I’ve never said that your songs aren’t good, they’re great!”

“Then why is it that I have to help record eight of your songs before you work on mine?”

George didn't raise his voice, he was just too tired to. Too tired of being held back, unable to be taken seriously by Paul and John.

“...come on, I promise this time we’ll do yours…”

_ Oh please.  _ He had heard that exact line before. And Paul conveniently forgot about his little promise every time. Honestly, it wasn’t about his songs anymore, it was the fact that Paul didn't respect him as an equal, and this wasn’t a new feeling either. His anger had been stewing for a long time.

Paul sighed and moved to join Ringo when George had an idea. A way to stop Paul and think about how George felt…  _ on the inside. _

George roughly grabbed Paul by the shoulders and opened his mouth. Paul let out a confused squawk but it was quickly muffled by George’s jaw extending and closing over his head.

Paul instantly began to struggle, but the element of surprise in George’s attack gave the younger man a huge advantage. Paul could already feel his shoulders and chest fall down George’s throat, and it was harder to move his upper arms. He twisted his spine and kicked his legs around, hoping to strike George in the face.

But George was stronger. He was fueled by anger, and his emotion burned far stronger than Paul’s fear. Paul could have hit George with his frantic kicking, but in his panic, he kicked outward instead of at George. He could feel Paul’s ass and hips pass through his mouth. His stomach was now bulging out, and he could feel the slight discomfort of becoming full.

Paul’s arms were too restrained in George’s stomach to move. He tried doing anything, but it was so tight inside that he couldn’t. Once his legs were wet and forced to fold up, Paul knew he was completely swallowed.

“Dammit, Geo! Let me out!” he screamed.

But George didn’t hear him because the sound was muffled by his flesh. Although Paul’s voice couldn’t affect George, his violent motions could. He was struggling to get out, pushing at the walls of his stomach. George lurched at the feeling. His gut was already uncomfortably stretched out, but with Paul’s thrashing, it was becoming painful.

“If you keep that up, you’ll have to stay in there longer. And you know what’ll happen if you stay in too long...” he huffed. Thankfully, Paul stilled, fearful of being digested. George’s entire sense of balance was thrown off due to the sheer weight pulling down at his midsection. He scanned the room and collapses into the nearest chair, ignoring its ominous creaking.

His belly softly gurgled as it grew used to Paul’s presence. “There now, that’s better. I’ll let you out in an hour or two, okay?”

A faint kick of acknowledgement came from his stomach.

He lazily stroked the underside of his belly. It felt warm and heavy, and he could feel Paul’s breathing through the taut flesh.

“What happened to us?”

Paul had to bite back a sarcastic remark as he waited for George to continue.

“Before all this, we used to be friends, we used to be so close.”

Sharing the same sleeping bag as they rode in cars with strangers from place to place.

“We used to be closest out of the four of us, but now...”

_ ...now we can barely stand each other.  _ Paul internally finished. Back then, when they were in school, George was like his shadow, constantly following Paul. He remembers them joking together in the studio, laughing and smiling, alongside John and Ringo.

He remembers recording their earlier albums, how whenever one of them came up with an idea, everyone got excited. But now, it seems like whenever someone thinks of something, the others all groan. Music went from something new and fun and exciting to a chore.

George was right, and Paul hated to agree. But he can’t pretend like everything’s fine, because it’s not. The band that had brought him some much love and joy was dying, and nothing short of a miracle would prevent it.

Suddenly, Paul felt George’s intestines stir. Shit, was he getting digested? And then George let out a large, wet burp.

“URRRRP! Sorry about that. Hopefully it’s not too bad in there.”

It honestly wasn’t. Paul almost forgot he was inside George. 

Inside George’s  _ stomach _ ! not inside him, that sounds so, _ so wrong. _

He was moaning, most likely at the immense pressure in his belly. It felt like he had eaten two whole buffets, and all he wanted to do is fall into a coma.

Considering he had eaten over one hundred pounds in the form of Paul, his desires were justified. 

“Mmmn, Paul… I’m going to take a nap, alright?”

Paul kicked at his insides. “No you’re not!” he yelled. “I’m still in here you idiot!”

Even though George couldn’t understand Paul, he knew exactly what he was saying.

“All things must pass.” he replied cryptically.

Paul kicked at him harder.

“Don’t worry, it’ll only be for a bit… and if you start dying, you can wake me up...”

“Night, Paul.” He said, despite it being lunchtime.

“Night, George.” Paul replied.

Paul could feel George’s pulsating heartbeat and breathing slowing. Well, he couldn’t move, and it was warm and tight inside George, so…

Might as well take a nap as well, he decided, eyes closing.

Ringo didn’t know what to expect when he got back, maybe Paul and George fighting or crying, not this.

There wasn’t anything wrong, per se, it’s just…

Well, George looked like he gained two hundred pounds and Paul was nowhere to be seen.

“Heya, George. Where’s Paul?”

George shook awake, eyes wide with alarm.

“Shit, what time is it?”

“A little past three, sorry I was out for lunch for so long.”

George groaned as he sat up. “I, um, I’ll get Paul out of the bathroom.” he said as he waddled out of the room.

Ringo walked over and placed himself behind the drum set. He had a good suspicion of what had happened while he was gone, and George walking out, much thinner, but still slightly chubby, with Paul in tow with his clothes torn confirmed his beliefs.

Despite their bizarre appearances, there was something different about their aura. 

Paul and George smiled at each other and then Paul spoke: “Hey Rings, we’re gonna work on George’s song now, alright?”

George silently mouthed  _ Thank you _ , and then  _ Sorry. _

Ringo nodded as he picked up his drumsticks and prepared to play.

“So I take you lads had a nice lunch, then?”


End file.
